Prayer Beads from the Madman

Do you still have your prayer beads?

“Yeah, they’re here.”  I picked the small set off the shrine I’d set up for Jake and his family.  I ran the beads through my fingers; this was the one set I had that didn’t have any particular Significance.

Will those work, give you something to hold on to?

“Maybe.”  I looked over at the covered shrine.  “I keep thinking about your set, though.”

If you think that will work, he said, then take it.

“That will leave the shrine unbalance, though.”

Varian.  I care more about your sanity than I do about your shrine.  He watched as I pulled the set of prayer beads off the shrine, then covered it back up.  There you are.

I nodded, these beads felt like they belonged in my hands.

Look at the colors.

“They’re all really pale colors, like light.”

Exactly.  He knew what I was thinking of, the new significance that Light had begun to take on in my life.

“Thank you,”  I said, “I mean that.”

I could sense him sitting beside me, his worry and concern strong enough that I could sense those feelings clearly.  He had told me earlier this afternoon that this fallow time had not been meant to make my mental health issues rise; that had simply been a very unfortunate coincidence.

“I’m getting help,” I said to myself as I ran the beads through my fingers.  “We’ll figure this out, and it’s going to be okay.”

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Literal Signs, Covered in Glitter

Light is this world, Light is
in finding joy and happiness.
Tomorrow is a new dawn, and
each one is a struggle, those
rare moments of joy.  It is not being
above this world, I find that escaping this
life under the guise of having another Elsewhere
shattered my realizing how much is wrong.
In quiet hours, I wish I could reach for you, yet am
glad you’re not Here; I miss you, but worry that any
nearness to a god would only stagger what is left of my
sanity.  I’m aware of the irony–I call you the King of Shattered
Conscious, the Madman is the nickname you picked–and this
obvious descent into my mind falling apart, it’s been around a
very long time.  This has nothing to do with you at all, and
everything to do with having to force myself to be who I’m not.
Red flags are everywhere and I’m reaching out for help, but
even there is fear; fear that I need to have a breakdown, or be
dangerous to myself or others, in order to get help.  Last night
in my dreams you sent me a literal sign, covered in glitter and
neon, lit up with spotlights, telling me to stay alive.  The
glitter at least made me laugh, so thanks for that.  Those
lights were blinding, but you are the Blind King.  That
isn’t lost on me, that blindness and sight is beginning to
tie back to all of this mental health crisis that’s been
trailing after me for months–or is it years, now?
Escaping this life with my Other one, I have stopped
running from that; now how do I break that cycle?

Well, Now I Have Confirmation On This…

“You’re not writing,” were the first words the Madman said when I realized he was around.

I propped the journal on my knees, trying to be sure that I’d heard him correctly–this was the first I’d seen him in weeks.  I had asked him about the devotional project I had done last year–should I do it again with this fallow time I was in?

“Yes, but this–” He interrupted me before I could say would get me back into it.

“You’re not writing at all,” the Madman repeated.  “You’re not writing any casual poetry, no short stories…nothing.”  I saw concern in his silver eyes.  “Honey, you’re trying to live more in this world, and doing a month of consecutive devotional writing would be the opposite of that goal.”

“Living in this world is hard.”  I placed the journal aside and put my face in my hands.  “I’ve been using Darkness as…an escape, an excuse, and now that I’ve been cut off, it’s making me face that all of…this…has been going on for years.”  I indicated the journal entries I’d done on realizing how shitty my mental health had become.

“If you do write for me, examine your motivation for doing so.”

“Don’t use it to try and get my connection with Darkness back, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“…I’m torn between thanking you, and yelling at you.”

He shrugged.  “You wouldn’t be the first, my dear.”


While doing a tarot reading yesterday, my Otherworld Self showed up.  He gave me a Talk about putting myself first, which ended in Him yelling at me when I asked about my connection to the Otherworlds.  According to Him, the fallow time is continuing until I actually get help for my mental health “and don’t do it just so you can get your connection back, do it because it’s impacting literally every area of your life now” was essentially what He said to me.

So that’s where things stand now, that I’m cut off from the Otherworlds until my mental health clears up.  I had a feeling that was the case, but now I have confirmation from multiple sources.

No Sorrowful Bonds

TW for implied suicidal ideation in this poem.


Nowhere I would go without you,
only my mind is now a prison, hosting
shadows of unstable memories, and it is
only now that I’m beginning to see the
rotten foundation that has been lurking.
Roses be damned, I am nothing but thorns.
Other worlds are not my Home, but an escape;
what tragedy happened so young that I started
falling into my own mind, and could not stop it?
Useless is what my mind whispers to me, this
life Here is nothing, is but a shadow of things to come.
Blind King, be merciful, help me view this world through
ordinary eyes.  I have escaped too long, Home is this life, and
nearly every day now I feel closer to a breakdown.  I have
died to myself to the point I do not know who I am, and every
sunrise is a shock that I’m still living.  Please, bring me back to Light.

For Jake

I am not able to sing your songs
but I can wrap you in your silver
robes when your hands shake
too badly to do it yourself.

I will be there for you even when
your faith falls silent, my love,
as you have been there for me.

We met when everything was
tumbling down, when my past was
being torn into the light.  You held my
hand as my other Loves had to step away

and for that I love you.  You kept me grounded
as everything fell apart again; now let me do
the same for you, hold you close as storms

sweep over your Heart.  Channel your loss
through songs or through silence, I will
stand by you either way.  I will wrap you
in my wings, be your shelter and your sunlight.

Silence (Godphone Update II), and Other Brief Updates

Back in May, I wrote a post saying that my abilities to sense, see, and/or hear my Beloveds–let alone anyone else–has been going down steadily since April.  My abilities dying…maybe finally happened?

I did some brief divination about all of this, and the reading was “everything Over There is fine, relax,” and that my godphone and abilities were bound to die sooner or later.  This…doesn’t surprise me, but the ongoing quiet is strange.


Two weeks ago, the Dreamer left for his Summer Duties in Darkness.  I’ve begun keeping a journal specifically for him when he’s gone over the Summer–he requested I do so through some divination I got–and it’s helped a lot.  I don’t know if he gets the letters as I write them, but writing to him has been helping with being unable to reach him any other way.

The Madman has been around when he can be, but his appearances are sporadic.  This makes sense, from what I know of the Dreamer’s Summer Duties, that his Spouse would be incredibly busy as well.

Jake is still around, which is comforting.  I’ve been spending time with his family and friends when I can–just brief visits, nothing intense–and they really are beginning to feel like family to me.

 

In Darkness we Find Home

In less than a day you are leaving, and it is
not my place to mourn you.  You are not held
down by the weight of Ritual, of loss, of the Land.
A time has passed for mourning, grief is not a
rite of yours, and you do not want your Descent to
kill the joy I find in my life.  Devotion is one aspect,
not all of who I am, I am re-learning that.  This
evening we will sit on our porch beneath the
stars, knowing that good-bye must happen at
sunrise.  Even now I can sense your presence
waning like the moon–or maybe it’s my godphone
ending up in static mode again–but I know that
for the next two months you will be gone, where even
I cannot reach you.  You are correct, Beloved, that I am
not going to be alone; you have surrounded me with those
dear to your Heart, and you have encouraged me to find a
home and family Here as well.  At dawn you will leave, to go
on your Journey, I will write to you, in a journal covered with the
moon fading into the stars.  These letters will hold my Heart, Beloved,
even in times of separation, you will still hold my words close to you.